Faustian Pact
by Naughty Captain Crieff
Summary: What if it had been Jim Moriarty who had brought Harold Saxon to power?


**_What if it was Jim Moriarty that had brought Harold Saxon to power?_**

**Faustian pact: a deal with the Devil. It's up to you to decide who the devil is ;)**

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><p>"It's taken me a very long time to find you."<p>

"I hardly let anyone get this close but you're a very persistent man, Harold Saxon."

"The Master. I'm the Master."

"So I've heard." Jim picks up a file and flicks through it lazily, though it is all for show – as most things he does are- he has already memorised every word in that file, "You're a time lord."

The Master cocks his head, as if assessing an opponent, "I am."

"There isn't much information on you, _Master._" Jim lets the name roll of his tongue like an insult, despising the title and its implications, but this alien has power Jim could only dream of, and he wants it, "Torchwood knows a lot more about another. Enemy of the Earth. Murderer. Hated. Mistrusted. The Doctor."

The Master's brow furrows. The Doctor is the hero. Saviour of the universe, king of sacrifice, bearer of justice. It appears the humans have a different idea. Suddenly the Masters face transforms, a look of glee shining behind his eyes, a smile upon his lips.

"You have the Doctor's TARDIS?" Jim asks, dismissing the Master's jubilation, though he already knows the answer. How else would he be here?

"_The Doctor's _TARDIS." The Master repeats with a sneer. Jim raises his eyebrows at the sudden change of temperament but the Master settles back into his chair saying, "Yes, I have it."

"Then why would you need my help? It's a time machine. You have the ultimate weapon at your disposal to find your Doctor."

"The Doctor did something to her, trapping me here." He replies , voice dripping with contempt. Jim is concerned with this time lord's lack of stability.

He knows he doesn't have much room to judge, doing what he does, but there is something unsettling about this man. His chosen name, the _Master_. The way he speaks, voice laced with a frenzied malice, Jim thinks he should be standing on a street corner preaching fire and brimstone. But most of all, since he was walked into this room, the way he has been tapping out a beat. An endless repetitive beat that he seems to have tuned out completely.

"I can't help you with your machine, so what exactly do you want, Mr. Saxon."

The Master's eyes narrow at the name but he seems to let it go, "If I cannot reach the Doctor, I must get him to come to me."

"He seems to be perpetually drawn to this timeline, it says his companions live here, you are as good as guaranteed to run into him soon." Jim is _almost_ surprised -almost because he is never truly surprised- with the words coming out of his mouth. The Master can give him alien technology, he would have more power than he could use, but he is steering him away with his careful words. _You're not scared are you, Jim? _

"It's not enough to just _run into him_, Moriarty. I need to have the advantage, and the TARDIS just isn't enough. Not anymore" The Master is tapping the beat on Jim's desk with an increased vigour, leaning forward with eyes boring into the man across from him, "He has beat me time and time again. Killed me over and over. There is only one way I can do it; I need to hold a position of power on your Earth. I want to be your _leader._"

Jim thinks it will be quite the task- who would ever trust this mad man enough to elect him as anything- but not impossible. Plus to have someone he controls in a position of power in the government would be an advantage to him, but Jim does not want to let him know that yet, "I think what you're looking for is a campaign manager. I am not going to be the one sticking up posters for you."

"I can make it worth your while." _This is what you want, Jim._ "I have Time Lord technology."

Finally, Jim smiles at his new business partner, "I believe I can help you, Master. There's someone you'll need to talk to, a Professor. Professor Richard Lazerus."

A grin spreads across the Master's face. The look that sits behind his eyes is almost animalistic and as Jim shakes his hand, sealing his Faustian pact, he is forced to- for the first time in his criminal career- crush a fleeting feeling of doubt. The feeling that he is making a terrible mistake.

Soon enough, his fears are drowned out to a frantic beat. To the sound of drums.


End file.
